Snowflake
by DeathlyMarshmallows
Summary: (Prompt fill) A short fluffy one-shot set when Belle was a child. Companion story to Crimson Threads.


_This was a fill for a prompt posted on Bittersweet and Strange_

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"And the fairy godmother struck the pumpkin with her wand, and it was instantly turned into a fine coach, gilded all over with gold."

Sofia looked down at her four year old daughter, who was sitting on the floor, staring up at her mother with two large, inquisitive hazel eyes.

"Well, Mama? What happened next?" asked Belle breathlessly. "Did Cinderella get to go to the ball?"

"You'll have to find out tomorrow night, treasure," Sofia told her, glancing at the clock sitting on the mantelpiece. "It's past your bedtime."

She stood up and placed the book on the highest shelf of the bookcase next to the fireplace.

"But, Mama!" Belle whined.

The front door suddenly flew open, and a short, plump man with receding chestnut brown hair entered the room, holding a small bundle of blankets in his arms.

"Papa!" Belle cried happily. She leapt up and rushed forward to attack her father with a hug.

"Did you miss me, Belle?" asked Maurice, chuckling.

"Uh-huh!" Belle squeaked. "Did your invention win, Papa?"

"Unfortunately not," said Maurice, sighing. "But I got a great idea for a new invention on the way home."

Sofia frowned. Maurice would spend months working on one of his inventions, take it off to a competition, and come in last place. It just didn't make any sense. When would the rest of the world come to their senses and realise her husband's genius?

"What's that in your arms?" asked Belle. "Did the good witch leave me a baby sister in the rosebushes?"

Maurice raised an eyebrow and looked up at his wife.

"She asked me where she came from and she wouldn't leave me alone until I gave her an answer," Sofia mouthed, shrugging her shoulders.

"Well, what is it, Papa?" asked Belle, who was jumping up and down excitedly.

Maurice gently laid the bundle on the floor and removed the blankets, revealing a creature that looked like a cat, except it looked as if all of its fur had been shaved off. The cat slowly stood up and look around its new surroundings.

"I found her on the side of the road just outside of town," Maurice told them. "She was just lying there in the snow. I couldn't just leave her there. I know it's clichéd, but I named her Snowflake."

"She looks so thin," said Sofia sadly. "She must have been mistreated. Poor little thing. How could anyone be heartless enough to leave a cat out in the cold with no fur?"

"What do you think of her, Belle?" Maurice asked.

"It looks scary," said Belle, eyeing the cat's smooth, furless, grey body.

"Don't be scared, Belle," said Sofia gently. "It's just a harmless little kitty cat. Her fur will grow back. Go on, give her a pat."

Belle reluctantly reached out her hand and patted Snowflake on the head. As she began to withdraw her arm, the cat lurched forward and bit the girl's little hand, leaving a large, dark red mark. Belle screamed and buried her face into her mother's skirt as Snowflake hissed and ran into the kitchen. Sofia quickly washed her daughter's hand and put her to bed. When she came back downstairs, she found Maurice sitting on the settee, holding Snowflake in his lap and looking forlornly into the fire.

"We can't keep her," Sofia told him. "She's a danger to Belle."

"She mustn't be too fond of children. It's a shame. I really was hoping that Belle would like her," said Maurice sadly. "But we can't put her out on the street again."

"We'll keep her until her fur grows back, and then we will give her away to a nice family with no children," said Sofia, wrapping her arms around her husband and resting her head on his shoulder. "Until then, we'll just have to keep her away from Belle."

The next day, Sofia went off to work, leaving Maurice in charge of Belle. He locked Snowflake in the cellar as he spent the day playing with Belle and telling her all about the new invention he had planned. At six o'clock, Maurice glanced out the window. The snow was falling thick and fast. There was nothing but white for as far as the eye could see.

"That's quite a storm. I guess Mama will be home late tonight," Maurice told his daughter.

He quickly lit a fire in the fireplace to keep the house warm. After cajoling, manipulating, and bribing his finicky daughter into finishing her dinner, he put her to bed and allowed Snowflake to leave the cellar so that he could work on his invention. Half an hour later, Belle wandered out of her room and made her way down the stairs and into the living room. She had gotten bored in bed and wanted to get a book to look at. She could not read too well on her own yet, but the smell and touch of books were a great source of comfort to her. Plus, she wanted to see if she could finish Cinderella on her own. The story hadn't sounded too difficult when her mother had read it to her.

As she approached the bookcase, she heard a tiny, painful meow. Belle turned around and saw Snowflake lying on the floor. As Belle shot her a glare, she noticed a small pin sticking out the side of the cat's paw.

"You've got a pin in your paw," Belle told Snowflake. "Here, let me pull it out for you. Just promise you won't hurt me again."

Belle cautiously approached the cat, leaned down, gently pulled out the pin, and laid it on the mantelpiece next to the clock. Snowflake gave a tiny meow of thanks and leapt up onto the settee. Belle turned around and stared up at the tall bookcase. Cinderella was on the top shelf. She would have to climb up to get it. Belle gripped one of the higher shelves and pulled herself up. She grinned. Success! She gripped another shelf and pulled herself up again. She could reach the top now. She extended her arm up to grab the book, but her foot slipped and she came crashing down. She hit her head on the hard wooden floor, and promptly passed out with her hair dangerously close to the lit fireplace.

Snowflake leapt up from the settee and rushed down the stairs that led to the cellar and started to scratch at the door. Maurice opened it up and followed the cat up to the living room. Upon seeing Belle, he let out a horrified gasp, bundled her up in his arms, and took her up stairs. Fifteen minutes later, Belle woke up in her own bed. Maurice sat at her bedside, holding Snowflake in his lap.

"Papa?"

"Belle? Oh, thank goodness you're awake," said Maurice, an enormous smile spreading over his face. "I thought I'd lost you. I should have known my tough little Belle wouldn't let a bump on the head get her down."

"What happened?" asked Belle, touching the painful lump on the top of her head.

"You passed out next to the fire, darling. Snowflake saved your life."

"Really?"

Belle looked into the cat's deep blue eyes and smiled softly. She lifted up the edge of her blanket and invited Snowflake to join her in bed.

"Poor kitty," Belle whispered. "She looks cold without her fur."

"You need to get some rest, little doe," said Maurice softly. "I'll watch over you just in case."

A few hours later, Sofia returned home to find her daughter fast asleep in her bed, with Snowflake snuggling up to her, and Maurice asleep with his head resting on the edge of Belle's bed.

From that moment on, Belle and Snowflake were inseparable. Within a few months, Snowflake had a thick coat of long white fur. Everywhere Belle went, she was accompanied by a big ball of fluff. They quickly became best friends. Every night, as Belle sat reading by the fire, Snowflake would curl up in her lap and let out a soft purr when the girl scratched her behind her ears. When Belle got the flu, Snowflake kept watch over her day and night to make sure she was alright.

One cold winter's morning, just a few months after Belle's seventh birthday, the little girl woke up early and ran downstairs where she found Snowflake lying motionless on the settee.

"Good morning, Snowflake!" Belle exclaimed happily.

She rushed into the kitchen and poured some milk into a small bowl. She ran back into the living room and set it beside the settee.

"Come on, Snowflake. Drink your milk."

Snowflake did not move a single muscle or give Belle any acknowledgement.

"Snowflake?" Belle repeated worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"What's wrong, angel?"

Belle whirled around. Her parents were standing on the stairs in their nightclothes, looks of concern etched across their faces.

"Snowflake's not moving, Mama!" Belle choked.

Sofia moved forward and crouched down next to Snowflake. She felt around Snowflake's neck and frowned.

"She's dead, darling," Sofia told Belle solemnly.

Sofia comforted her daughter as Maurice buried Snowflake in the little patch of garden outside of their house.

"Don't cry for Snowflake, Belle," she told her daughter gently. "You should celebrate your life together. Think of all the good times of you and Snowflake had together."

This just made Belle cry even harder. Sofia sighed despairingly and pulled her daughter into an even tighter hug. Inwardly she hoped that this experience would help prepare Belle for the future. She and Maurice had done their best to hide her illness from their daughter, but it was slowly getting worse. She had been preparing herself for death for quite some time, and she had come to terms with the fact that she was going to die, but seeing Belle cry like this broke her heart. She hated seeing her daughter upset, and the thought of the emotions Belle would feel after her own death was just unbearable.


End file.
